


The Graveyard Shift

by Maggie_of_the_Fae



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, First Fic!, Gen, How Do I Tag, Isolation, Look I mad a Tiktok Oc and wrote her backstory, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), The Lonely - Freeform, The Vast is there too, Unreliable Narrator, as a treat, kinda???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggie_of_the_Fae/pseuds/Maggie_of_the_Fae
Summary: Statement of Emery Hitchcock, Regarding the “Graveyard Shift” at the radio station KLNY.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Graveyard Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so uhhhhhhhh this is my first fanfic?? And first attempt at horror?? So there's that. Enjoy!

**Statement of: Emery Hitchcock**

**Regarding: the "Graveyard Shift” radio show at KLNY.**

**Sent via Email 29 January, 2019 to The Magnus Institute, London.**

**Recorded by Jonothan Sims, The Archivist.**

**Statement Begins:**

There’s a power in broadcasting, but I’ll get to that later. This is how I found my dream job. How many 23 year olds can say that? I didn’t think it was, going in. Admittedly, it was too good to be true.

Up until then, I had been taking classes at the community college in my town, had just got my associates in Radio Broadcasting. My grandfather, before he retired, was a radio host back in the sixties, you see. I’d always heard stories at Thanksgiving about all the people he had on his show-Nickols and May, B.J Tompson, The Beatles that one time- and I was just. Fascinated. He could send his voice out and _a_ _ nyone  _ could hear it. I dunno. I always found it alluring. 

Parents weren’t too thrilled though. I mean they weren't too excited when I came out to them, but to get a “useless degree at a nothing school” was just _a_ _ ppalling  _ in their eyes. Didn’t matter that I loved the work, that I fought tooth and nail to get taken seriously as the  _ only  _ woman in the department, but no. I wasn’t graduating top of my class at Yale, so it was all a waste. And that  _ really _ lit a fire under my ass to get a job. Usually you need a degree  _ and  _ a pretty hefty resume to apply to most decent radio studios, and even then you’re lucky to get an internship. I think I was desperate, and, well. I might’ve fudged a few things, and applied anywhere I could. 

Honestly? I don’t remember submitting anything to KLNY. I Must’ve, I got an email back. You probably haven’t heard of the station, not many people have. No one in the department had heard of it either, and maybe that should have tipped me off. The email didn’t say much, outside the job description and the pay. You’re lucky to get an internship right? These guys were taking me on full time,  and I was  _ getting my own show. _ And that’s _totally_ unheard of, but I was over the moon. All I had to do was show that up next Monday and find a place in town. I had been looking at the door for three months at this point, my bags were already half packed. This job honestly felt like a godsend. 

Too good to be true, If i had thought about it more than five minutes. It occurs to me that I lucked in that this wasn’t a scam. 

I got an apartment without too much of a fuss, and next thing I knew all my shit was packed in the back and I was driving out to Point Solum, Arizona. The town was tiny, smaller than where I grew up. A lot of old hippies, a dying mall. Not exactly a place you would want to raise kids or something, but it was good enough for me. People seemed nice enough, and honestly I was just happy to get a place of my own. That Monday, I showed up to the station a little early, the sun had just set. And that drive over was just _gorgeous_. KLNY was a bit out of the way from town, and without all that light pollution- it’s just you and the stars. 

The station looked like it was leftover from the cold war, All 70’s architecture, the biggest satellite dish I've ever seen. Howard met me outside, He's the guy that emailed me about the gig. I guess you can call him my boss, I only saw him that once face to face. He was this old guy, long beard, skeletal practically. A stiff wind could’ve knocked this guy over. Howie seemed to be the only other person at the station, on the night shift anyway. He gave me the run of the place, all pretty standard stuff that I’d heard a hundred times over in class. Well, except for the actual music section- It was all  _ actual  _ records. Not even CDs,  _ records.  _ I mean, if I'm honest, records sound better  _ anyway _ but that’s not the point. The 11pm-4am nightly slot was mine, he kept calling it “The Graveyard Shift”, so I just assumed that was the name of the show. I’d asked him about who I was taking over for. I mean, I assumed their old host dropped out last minute and that’s the only reason I was there. Howie just looked at me funny, like I’d just spoken Russian or something. Whatever, I dropped it.

There were only three big things that he kept repeating over and over: Always read the special reports, Never turn off the listener phone line, and don’t fall asleep. It seemed easy enough. Other than that, Howard would be in the booth and I could play whatever I want. 

Easy Enough. 

First week was rough. Back at school I would always get flack for having a “granny schedule”, going to bed at like 11:30, so having to stay awake was a real struggle. Doing a google search on how to stay awake only led to this something-something circadian rhythm meditation app and a handful of sleeping pills when I got home. I quickly learned to get Costco loads of the strongest coffee I could get my hands on, that really helped. 

The first special report came in on Friday, out of nowhere. It was a half ripped piece of paper, small enough I just assumed Howie just slipped it under the door. “A-12, Yaris, 4327, 66. The weather in Delilah is Partially cloudy. v/AIuu6.” I almost started laughing. It was just  _ gibberish _ . First I thought it was just some sort of initiation thing. But no. Next one was just as odd, something like “Mxz Drai, Avian. 5. 5. 5. H-92, A. Humidity is 10.5%”. For the life of me I couldn’t find a rhyme or reason to these oh-so-special notices. I started to think that I was working for some government front, sending out codes to spies or whatever. I guess I might be still. I’ll never know.

A month in, I’d gotten used to the weird sleep schedule, but then other things started to bother me. For one, no one had heard of the station only ten miles out of town. Not that I saw  _ many  _ people, just to be clear. The cleaning lady from the apartment next to me, the guy running the 24 hour liquor store that kept trying to get my number. 

But the other thing, the thing I wasn’t expecting-It seemed like the only show that KLNY ran was, well.  _ Mine _ . I don’t know why that was such a surprise for me, It wasn’t like I had seen anyone else there but me and Howie. Hell, I had still just assumed he had his own show. One Day after work, I was dead set on staying up until I found his show,  _ any _ other show that was on KLNY. So I sat there, Red Bull in hand and I stayed up late-early I guess- just listening to the blank station. The fuzzy static started out quiet, like if you tired hard enough you could tune it out. I almost didn’t notice it getting louder and louder. And then it felt like all there was was static. It wasn’t...words don’t do it justice. It felt like i was wrapped in layers and layers of damp cotton, like anything outside my room was a million miles away, but it was  _ more  _ than that. I dunno. It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t  _ unpleasant _ . Time felt like a syrup, and the next thing I was  _ really _ aware of was my alarm, telling me to ge the fuck to work. 

I sorta fell into the habit of listening to my station anyway, just in case. 

The Graveyard shift kinda devolved into a personal experiment, and I started playing anything. It was  _ my _ show, right? No one was gonna stop me. I figured hey, maybe if I’m obnoxious enough, a listener would call in and beg me to stop. I didn’t know how many people were listening.  _ If _ anyone was listening, I guess.  That was something that Grandpa never talked about. Sure, you can send something out all you want, but not  _ Knowing _ if it ever got received, just the thought of it stretching out to nothing… That felt weird. Isolating. There are memes online about “screaming into the void” or whatever the fuck. But that’s what I was doing, wasn’t it? Broadcasting to nothing. 

Some nights I would just stare at the listener's phone, the light on the landline slowly blinking, daring it to ring. 

It never did. 

I don’t know when it stopped bothering me, but eventually the Booth became a second home for me. I brought in posters, a coffee pot got put in the corner. Sometimes I would stop playing music and just. Talk. About me, life, what I saw on the drive, whatever came to mind. 

God, driving back to my apartment after my show was. Heaven. Sometimes the moon was bright enough, I didn’t even need headlights. That probably sounds like I have a death wish but, come on. it wasn’t like anyone else was coming. Only car I ever saw my whole shift was Howie’s in the parking lot. I would just turn up the static and let the night sky wash over me. 

And then I missed a call four months ago. It was from Dad, the first I'd heard from them. 

Grandpa’s dead. A stroke in his sleep. 

I didn’t apply for time off. I just turned up the blank station. 

About two months ago I was passing Howie’s booth. I’d long since stopped noticing the only footsteps that disturbed the layers and layers of dust where my own. But this whole time I had just assumed that Howie was doing his job, running everything else, keeping to himself like I was. Sometimes I’d knock on his door as I went in for my shift, just to say hi. But that night I knocked and the door just. swung open. Curiosity got the better of me and, well. I went in. It felt like I was inhaling a decade’s worth of dust, equipment whirring that high pitched tone that I had almost tuned out by now. Howard was sitting there, at his desk. Staring forward. Eyes glassed over. It didn’t take long to figure out he wasn’t breathing. He’d been dead for what, a week? a month? I started shaking. This whole time, I kept thinking that Howie was there. That even if I hadn’t seen him, I wasn’t the only one. That I wasn’t alone.

But no. 

It was just me.

I started sobbing. God, when was the last time I saw another person? When was the last time I saw the  _ Sun _ ?  I don’t know how long I stayed like that, just crying in the corner, my head spinning. It felt like time had slipped out from under me. And I don’t know what pulled me to look back up. 

But the soundboard- the soundboard was still running. It was all still running, the monitor, the broadcasting equipment. I had the thought that- It all came from here. The static came from here. 

I saw it then

There’s a power in broadcasting. People never really touch on it. And this  _ whole time _ , I had been sending out myself, filling the static with whatever I wanted. Whatever the fuck  _ I _ wanted to make it. 

And it  _ was _ just me. I was part of it, part of all of it. 

And I started  _ laughing. _

So. That takes us to now. I’m writing this last hour of the show.  _ My _ show. I’ve been playing  _ Hotel California  _ the whole time. Howie’s still hanging around. Don’t entirely remember why I started writing. I don’t remember the last time I went out to buy groceries, but I stopped getting hungry months ago. Don’t entirely know where the new records are coming from either. It’s probably better not to think about it.

The special reports kept on mentioning this Magnus Place. I don’t even know if you guys even take emails. If you guys are real. 

If anything’s real

But here we are. 

And here you are.

if you’re ever in need of a good listen.

95.1 KLNY

I’m waiting. 

**Statement Ends**

**Author's Note:**

> At some point Emery definitely played Never Gonna Give You Up for a week straight. She’s That Petty  
> Also I made a playlist for The Graveyard Shift! It's a lot of Doctor Demento, Lemon Demon and The Muppets 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5KwzjQ0YVhbgVWuIXU0vQe?si=R3mm588pT/CaAxGkd4aRQuQ 
> 
> Kudos and Comments are appreciated!  
> Thanks to @gayshitiguess for looking it over!


End file.
